


Say my Name

by momo_official



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, dubcon, literally no one asked for this, no one asked for this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:39:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momo_official/pseuds/momo_official
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He keeps a loyal servant, but sometimes, mistakes happen, and punishments must be dealt. Loki/Reader PWP, warning for dub-con. Second person is gender-neutral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You wave goodbye to the final guest leaving your house and shut the front door.

You stretch your arms over your head. You haven’t had people over in a while, but it was easy to forget just how tiring it really was. Yawning, you turn and begin to move towards your bedroom for some much needed rest.

“Have you forgotten about me?”

Your blood runs cold, and you turn.

He’s leaning against the opposite wall of your living room, crossing his arms. Though he’s unarmed, you know that he is far from harmless in his current state. You shiver at the feeling of his blue eyes boring into you.

“How could I?” you say, trying to sound casual; however, your fear makes your voice crack.

His gaze swivels down to your hands; he smirks when he sees them shaking, and lets out a short laugh. “Oh, but it seems you have, my darling.”

He straightens up and walks towards you. You take a step back.

“You forgot that we had a deal,” he continues. His voice is low and smooth, and he smiles, looking anything but friendly. He is slowly closing the gap between you two. As you take another step back, you realize with horror that you cannot move any further away from him. Instead, you press yourself against the wall, taking gulping breaths. “You forgot your debt to me," he continues, “Do you understand that you must do everything I ask of you?”

“I apologize, Loki,” you stammer.

He stops inches from your body, and places a surprisingly gentle hand on your chest. You shiver again.

“What did you call me?” he murmurs.

When you don’t answer, the hand on your chest curls into a fist. He presses a knee between your legs and pries them apart as he speaks. Despite yourself, you feel a small, pleasant shock go through you.

He brings his pale face incredibly close to yours, so close you can feel his hot breath on your skin. “You are only to refer to me as ‘my lord’ unless I say so. Do you understand me?”

You let out a small whimper. “Yes.”

He pounds his other fist against the wall next to you. You jump. “Yes, what? Speak up, you miserable cur!”

“Yes, my lord,” you whisper. “I apologize, my lord.”

He relaxes and lets out a small breath through his mouth. His once warm breath is suddenly freezing cold against your skin. You close your eyes; you feel as if you could melt into the floor with relief.

“Good,” he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Never forget, you are mine for eternity.”

He removes his hand from your chest. You turn to the side and make to escape, but his leg between yours stops you. He grabs your chin roughly and forces you to look at him.

Keeping his painful grip on your face, he looks down his nose at you and turns your face this way and that, examining you thoroughly. “Come to think of it,” he muses quietly, “you could be of use to me in some other way.”

A terrible grin creeps across his face. You feel the blood draining from yours. “Are you willing to prove your loyalty to me?”

You swallow. His thigh is pressing against a sensitive part of you, and despite yourself, you moan quietly, “Please, please, please…”

“Ah,” he whispers. He tilts his head and mockingly cups his free hand to his ear. “I didn’t quite catch that last bit. You oughtn’t mumble, you know.”

He leans in and presses against your sweet spot harder. You bite your lip. “Yes, my lord.”

He smirks. “Very good. You’re proving to be a loyal servant after all.”

He lets go of you. Your legs shake as you straighten yourself up. It’s a miracle that he didn’t kill you for not fulfilling his orders on time, but this is an alternate arrangement you find yourself all too happy to fulfill. You stagger forward, trying to head towards someplace more comfortable for the two of you.

“I promised you a reward for your earlier work.” He snakes an arm around your waist and presses his body against you from behind. “But, as it were, I must also punish you for disobeying me tonight. I suppose we can meet halfway between the two. A fitting arrangement, wouldn’t you agree?”

His free hand strokes your cheek, and he chuckles. You feel short of breath. He presses his lips against your ear, and when he speaks, his voice is rough and barely louder than his labored breathing. “I don’t know why I bother to ask you. I can do whatever I please to you, because we both know that the alternative is far worse. And I already know you want this."

His hand trails downwards and under your belt. His fingers gently brush against your naked skin, and your knees buckle. He pulls you closer to him, pressing you against his body, holding you up as his fingers continue to stroke you between your legs. His touch is maddeningly light, and you groan with frustration.

He presses his free palm against your open mouth and continues to whisper in your ear. “You make a delightful slave. Are you enjoying this, my dear?” Judging by the hardness in his pants, you know he certainly is.

You moan against his hand.

Without warning, he removes his hand and shoves you forward. You stumble forward.

Before you can steady yourself, however, his boot connects with your back. The powerful kick sends you tumbling to the floor.

“Rise,” he growls.

You start to stand up, but he kicks you down again. Suddenly, you feel the cold tip of his spear on the back of your neck.

Your blood is rushing in your ears. Was his kind behavior just him toying with you, having some fun before killing you for your disobedience?

You squeeze your eyes shut. How could you ever have thought he would spare you? This mission had been dreadfully important, and now he had to wait to execute his grand plan, all because you lost your nerve at the last second. You had walked away and hid the gun before you could pull the trigger on your target. He knew you had disobeyed him and delayed him even further.

There is a tense silence. Then he speaks again, his growling voice much quieter than before. “Kneel before me.”

You don’t have to be asked twice. You turn and rise onto your knees, keeping your gaze averted respectfully. All you can see are his shining black boots moving towards you.

“Look at me.”

You hunch your shoulders and look up.

He sneers down at you and straightens his spear. There’s a pause.

“I want you to lick my boots,” he says softly.

You begin speaking before you can stop yourself. “I b-beg your pardon, my lord?”

He swings the spear forward and uses its tip to lift your chin. He bends down towards you. His blue eyes are bright with anger.

“Despicable scum,” he spits in your face. “Do not question me.” Each word is scathing, deliberate. “Lick. My. Boots.”

Your eyes scan his. You can’t tell if he’s being serious. He leans back and juts a boot towards you.

“Do you want to live, you disgusting thing?” he hisses.

This is not something he’s ever asked you to do. You bend down and begin to slowly and obediently drag your tongue across the top of the leather. You hear him let out a shuddering breath above you.

“Yes,” he whispers. “Like that.”

Despite the danger of the situation, you feel yourself becoming wet. Although you’d found this god attractive before, you had never thought he’d use you like this, and part of you got an indescribable thrill from it.

You wrap your hands around his ankle and begin to trace the detailing of his boots with your tongue, going as slowly as possible. You even take time to suck loudly on the leather. He groans above you, then gasps as you press your lips against the toe and leave a reverent kiss.

As you’re reaching for the other foot, an idea strikes you. “Permission to speak, my lord?” you ask, still not looking up at him.

To your surprise, he breathes, “Permission granted.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you sat down?” you ask, then hastily add, “If you want, my lord.”

There’s a hush as he contemplates this. Finally, he laughs, and speaks again.

“You have a point.” He tugs his foot out of your grasp. When you look up again, he’s striding towards your bedroom. You get up and follow him.

He sits on the edge of your bed and spreads his legs. While he stretches and settles into his place, you notice with glee that your initial instincts had been correct; he was definitely aroused by the entire situation.

He leans back and offers the other foot. You stride forward and fall to your knees, immediately reaching for his ankle. You lean down and hungrily worship his boots with your tongue again. He sighs and leans back; you feel his eyes watching you.

“I’ve had a thought,” he snaps suddenly. “Get up.”

You obey.

“Remove your clothing.”

You immediately begin stripping. His eyes rake over your naked form hungrily, and move to take in each body part as it’s exposed.

When you’re finally naked before him, his gaze fixes on yours. He beckons you forward wordlessly, and you step closer so that your legs are against the foot of the bed.

He furrows his brows. He repeats the beckoning gesture again, more insistently this time. “Closer.”

“My lord…?”

“I mean, sit here.”

He spreads his hands and gestures to his thighs. Your breath hitches. He sighs and grins at you.

“Oh, come now,” he coos. “As if you have a choice in the matter.”

You slowly put one knee on the bed, then the other. He places one hand on your lower back and another on your rump to steady you as you pull forward and eventually settle in his lap, directly on top of his erection. You wrap your legs around him and shift to get comfortable; he lets out a small grunt as you brush against him.

Suddenly, he grabs your face roughly in one hand and forces you to look at him. You only have seconds to discern the lust in his eyes before he grabs the back of your head and roughly kisses you.

You moan and part your lips as he forces his tongue into your mouth. His hands take yours in his, but just as you think he’s trying to hold them, he brings them behind your back and holds your wrists there with one hand. Your tongue plays with his, and he lets out a grunt of satisfaction against your mouth and grinds up against you.

When you try to return the motion, however, he smacks your backside roughly with his other hand. You yelp from the sharp pain.

“Ah, ah,” he breathes against your lips. “This is part of your punishment.” He grabs your chin again. “You will obey me,” he snarls. “If you are good, I will let you take some pleasure from this as a reward. If not, then it will pain you more than anything you have ever felt.” He spanks you again, harder than before, enough to leave a welt. You know he can hit hard enough to bruise or even maim you, but for whatever reason, he’s restraining himself. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Do you understand me, slave?” he asks, then adds, “Do you consent to what I am about to do to you?”

“Yes, my lord!” You desperately want him to keep hitting you; he does, and roughly kisses you again.

He must be probing your thoughts during this, you realize. He can’t help himself.

You will him to spank you again. In response, he gives your rump one last, rough smack, then brings his hand around to your front. His lips pull away from yours long enough to briefly suck on one of his fingers.

Before you have time to prepare yourself, he swiftly thrusts the finger inside you. You gasp. He begins insistently probing a spot that makes sparks shoot behind your closed eyelids.

“I’ve never lied with a human,” he says, tone light and casual although he’s now slipping in a second finger and thrusting against that spot much harder than before. “I wonder how strong you are?” You pant, trying to keep still, although it’s taking so much restraint that you’re trembling. “I wouldn’t want to hurt my darling servant, now, would I?” Fuck, you’ve wanted this for longer than you’ve realized. His grip on your wrists tightens. “That wouldn’t be beneficial to either of us, now, would it?”

“I…” You gulp in air and squirm. “M—my lord, please…”

“It’s music to my ears to hear you beg for me,” he says quietly. A third finger. You feel about to burst. Your heart is beating so fast, and his voice is low and husky and indescribably sexy to you. “Do it again.”

“My lord, I…I want…”

“What? What is it you want?”

“You!"

He laughs and brings his fingers out of you. You fall back against his chest, but he pushes you aside before you can get too close to him. “Why, you want me, my darling pet? You said you wanted me?”

You drag yourself onto the bed and rise onto your hands and knees, your back to him. You hear him beginning to undo his belt.

“Turn around,” he says. “Let me watch you.”

You flip over, and with one hand on your chest, he pushes you against the bed and holds you there.

“Spread your legs. Offer yourself to me.”

You spread your shaking legs apart. He takes a moment to align himself, then pauses and thinks for a moment. He looks up at you, blue eyes wide. When he speaks again, his tone is chiding.

“Now, there will be no fighting. If you try to bring harm to me, I’m afraid I won’t be able to take care of you much longer.”

He looks down towards his hand, and when you follow his gaze, you notice blue frost creeping down it from his fingertips. He drags one ice-cold fingertip across your belly. You moan quietly.

“I’ll do as you say, my lord.”

“Please,” he laughs and slides into you, “Call me Loki now.”

He begins fucking you roughly, and you try your best not to cry out from the combined pain and pleasure of it. He leans back and looks down his nose at you as he rolls his hip in even, perfectly-timed thrusts.The wet sound of flesh on flesh fills the room.

He drags his cold fingertip across your belly again. You arch your back in pleasure and, for once, stare directly back into his eyes. He notices you watching him and smirks, lips parting as he pants above you. His thrusts grow rougher, more erratic. “Say my name,” he orders calmly.

“L-Loki,” you breathe.

“Again,” he repeats. His tone is surprisingly even, although his thrusts are getting faster and more impatient.

"Loki."

He grabs your hips and pounds into you, losing all restraint in his voice. “Louder."

“Loki!” you shout. You’re getting close, and judging by the small moan that leaves his lips, he is, too.

Suddenly he slaps you across the face. “Louder!” he screams at you.

You scream back, “Loki!”

“Again,” he growls. He grows still and leans in towards you so he’s hovering right above you. His length is so deep inside you and filling you so completely that you can’t take it anymore. His entire body is shaking with the effort of keeping himself under control. “Say. My. Name.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shout, your voice hoarse, “Loki!”

You finish, your body squeezing hard against him. He comes inside of you moments later with a soft, high moan. He gently rolls his hips into you a few times, riding out his release, as you begin to relax into the bed.

After a short pause, he pulls away and uses your sheets to clean himself off. He smirks down at you as you struggle to sit up. Every part of you is aching wonderfully.

“I should punish you more often. Remind me to the next time I visit you.”

He re-fastens his belt and turns towards the door. You’re still naked on the bed, completely spent; it makes sense that he, as a god, can be back on his feet in no time.

“Oh.” He stops and looks back at you. “You have twenty-four hours to finish the mission I originally assigned to you." He smiles. “Good luck.”

Just like that, you are alone again.


	2. Chapter 2

You know that you have no choice but to obey him.

You kill the target within twenty-four hours of your last meeting with him. You see him approach the corpse; he smiles toothily at you and nods once. With a wave of his hand, the body is gone, along with the murder weapon. Your tracks are covered.

People make a search party, and you go along with it. Of course, there’s no body to be found, and the target is ultimately pronounced dead, the cause unknown.

You attend the funeral. He is hovering over the empty casket, looking like a somber angel of death. He doesn’t make eye contact with you, but instead watches the proceedings with a look of mock sorrow on his thin, pale face. He is invisible to all but you.

After the funeral ends, he whispers your next assignment in your ear. This mission, he promises, will come with a handsome reward if you execute it the way he wants, when he wants it executed.

You execute it, and wait for your reward.

\----------------------------------------------

“Well done.” He’s sitting on a chair in your living room, watching you closely. There is no smile on his face, and your heart pounds as you wonder if you botched his instructions after all. It couldn’t hurt to be too cautious, after all; your master isn’t very lenient. One slip-up could mean torture, or worse.

But to your relief, his face breaks out into a wide smile instead. “I believe I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

He raises his hand to his mouth and raises an eyebrow. “Really, now? No reward for your good work? You’re far too humble.”

You smile nervously and place your hands behind your back, wringing them out of his sight. You don’t want to take a reward from him; this is something he could hold over your head later on. “What do you have in mind?”

His voice sounds from behind you. “Whatever you have in mind, my darling.”

You spin around. He’s there behind you, and he grabs your wrists and pull them into his view. He turns your hands this way and that; they are shaking.

“You’re afraid,” he says quietly, and peers at you. “Do you think I am lying?”

“No, sir,” you stammer.

He lets your wrists go. You back away quickly, and he laughs at you, spreading his arms.

“What have you to fear from me?” he asks. “I merely want to give you a little token of my appreciation.” He clasps his hands in front of him and stares evenly at you. “I will grant you one wish. What is one thing you most desire?”

When you don’t respond, he turns and begins to pace a wide circle around your room. “I cannot give you power,” he continues, “That only comes when our work is finished. I could, however, grant you immortality. Immunity from harm. Invisibility.”

He turns and smiles. His voice is sugar-sweet. “Anything you desire that is within my reach will be yours.”

You hesitate. There has to be some catch to this, but whatever it is, he won’t say. He could end up taking something from you later as payment.

“What?” He tilts his head and looks at you sideways, amusement on his face. “There’s nothing you want? Is my company enough for you?”

“Anything?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Within reason, pet.” His voice takes on a mocking tone. “I could even make you breakfast for a week.” He taps his chin with one finger, looking you up and down. “Although I have never been one to serve other masters.”

You look away and think for a moment. Last week’s encounter flashes into your mind, and you shiver at the memory of him taking control over you again.

“I want you to punish me,” you mutter.

There’s a tense silence in the room. You don’t dare look up to see his reaction, but as the silence draws on, you can’t resist glancing up at him.

He’s still standing quite a distance away from you, but the look on his face is now one of pure glee. “You want...?”

He throws back his head and cackles. “You want me to punish you? Really? As a reward?”

You find yourself smiling with him. “Is that not “within reason” for you, sir?”

He composes himself, although the wide smile is still on his face as he approaches you. “Oh, it’s very within reason for me. In what way should I punish you? Hmm?”

You stand your ground as he stops in front of you, toe-to-toe. Sweat drips down your temple; you wonder if this was a bad idea after all.

He reaches out and traces your jawline with one cold finger. He’s not looking at you, but at some point off to your left. His other arm is tucked behind his back; you can hear him cracking the knuckles of his free hand. “I could always beat you until you cry out for mercy. I could tear you apart, limb from limb. I could flay you. I could make you go insane.” His gaze slides up to meet yours. His smile turns coy. “But I imagine that’s not what you have in mind.”

“No, sir.” Your throat is dry.

“Then what were you thinking of?”

When you don’t respond immediately, he laughs again; it’s low and sinister and it makes shivers go up your spine and a low heat build within your belly. “I really ought to think of a different way to punish you. It seems that the last punishment I gave you was more of a...reward.”

He takes your chin firmly, but not painfully, in his hand. “I see the look in your eyes.” You swallow thickly as he takes a wider stance and presses his body against yours. Your noses are almost touching. “You want me to use you. Is that right?”

“Yes, my lord.”

The words are out of your mouth immediately, and his coy smile turns into the same wicked grin from before. You find yourself smiling back.

“Ooh, I was right,” he whispers. “You remember as well as I do?”

“I can’t say I forgot, my lord,” you murmur back.

He takes a deep breath, staring at you, then leans in and kisses you hard. You let out a soft noise and run your fingers through his long, dark hair; he lets you touch him, using his own hands to hold you by the back of your neck. His tongue twists around yours, gently teasing you. Your bodies press together.

Suddenly, you hear a crack, and pain blossoms across your leg. You stumble backwards.

He’s holding a leather riding crop and smirking. You watch as he leans back and holds the crop in both hands, examining it. “It’s normally for our more disobedient horses,” he says quietly, “but I thought it might work for equally disobedient servants.” He looks up at you and cracks the riding crop against the couch nearby. You jump.

“Where did you get that from?” you ask. When he raises one eyebrow, you correct yourself. “Where did you get that from, my lord?”

“A true magician never reveals his tricks,” he chides. “Besides, you don’t have the right to know.”

He uses the tip of the crop to lift your chin. “All you have the right to do is get on your knees before me.”

You slowly sink to the ground as instructed, and avert your eyes. He’s never been known for his restraint when inflicting violence, but you think back to when he slapped you the last time you two were in a situation like this. Hopefully, he can show the same restraint with the crop.

Or, some part of you thinks with not a small amount of hope, he won’t show any restraint at all.

“Press your face to the floor like the worthless dog you are.”

You oblige him. He chuckles.

He slowly in a circle around your prone form; you know from the sudden clinking of metal on metal that he’s now wearing his full armor. The thought makes you writhe on the floor. “This is your natural state, after all.” He lightly smacks the riding crop across your back, and you whimper softly. “You are not fit to kiss the dust beneath my feet.” Another smack, this one lower than the first. You arch into the touch and let out a small moan. “You should consider yourself honored that I would grace you with my presence.”

He stops in front of you. The tip of the crop brushes against your cheek. “And it will be your duty to please me.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “If you are good, you will be rewarded handsomely.”

“Please, my lord,” you say, “I’ll do anything, my lord.”

He laughs, more openly this time. “Anything?”

He taps the crop on the side of his leg. There’s a long, tense silence; he is thinking. You hold your breath.

“Rise,” he murmurs.

You rise up only to a higher kneeling position. He makes a small tsk-ing noise. “You may stand.”

You do so, still keeping your eyes down. He walks behind you and sits in the chair he was sitting in earlier. You hear him undoing his belt.

When you turn around, he is still in his full armor, but his pants have been pulled down slightly. He strokes his hardening length and stares at you, lips parted. He beckons with one finger, wordlessly, and you move forward and kneel at his feet. For good measure, you kiss both of his boots. He moans above you.

“Show me how loyal you are, slave,” he whispers. The crop taps gently against your back, once, twice, then he cracks it again and you’re arching up with a loud cry. He takes you by the hair and jerks you roughly up so your head is in his lap.

Before he can say anything else, you wrap your hands around his erection. He grunts and tilts his head back as you stroke it slowly. The golden horns of his helmet glint.

“I ask your permission, my lord,” you say, still pumping him slowly.

“What for?” he growls at the ceiling.

“To...” You swallow thickly. He looks down at you, eyes hooded. “Please you.”

He smirks. “Permission granted.”

You lean down and close your mouth around his length. As you gently move your head, he moans and bucks up into your mouth. The fingers of one hand thread into your hair, stabilizing your head as he starts to fuck your mouth. The other hand still holds the riding crop, which rests on your back, a silent warning. You taste his pre-cum on your tongue.

“You are a worm,” he gasps as you run your tongue up and down his shaft, “and in the end, you will always kneel to me.”

He forces your head off of him and pushes you away. “Strip,” he commands, his voice rough as he pulls his pants back up.

You slide out of your clothes slowly, keeping your eyes on him. His eyes rake over your body; he doesn’t disguise his hunger this time. He bites his lip as you take off the last piece of clothing between you and him.

“Turn around,” he says. “On. Your. Knees.”

You do so. Just as you get into position, he cracks the riding crop across your rump. You let out a cry of pain, but when he continues to whip you, you feel your arousal building between your legs. He is clearly holding back, but the sting of crop is erotic enough. Your cries turn into moans. Your fingers dig into the carpet.

“Everyone will know that you belong to me,” he growls. He stops and brushes the tip of the riding crop gently along the welts. You whimper. “You are mine alone.”

“My lord, p-please...”

He leans over you; his breath is hot on your skin. “Pathetic mortal. What do you want, slave?”

“Please,” you murmur, “make me yours, my lord.”

“Do you wish for me to claim you? Do you consent, you disgraceful pig?” He accentuates the last word with one last crack of the riding crop. You squeak.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good,” he breathes. He sets the crop on the floor next to you. There’s a long pause.

You feel him slide one slick finger into you. You let out a groan and lean back into it. He cackles and begins to finger you. His free hand presses into the carpet next to yours as he leans over you, whispering to you.

“You’re such a pretty little pet, aren’t you? So obedient, so eager.” The finger curls inside of you, and your eyes flutter shut. He adds a second and begins curling both fingers in earnest, listening to your noises and watching you writhe under him on your hands and knees. “You want me more than you’ve wanted anything. You hunger for this.”

“My lord,” you pant, “please...Loki...” He’s slamming against your sweet spot with every flick of his fingers, and it’s driving you insane.

His fingers stop, deep inside of you. You want to scream in frustration. “Please, what?”

You press your face to the ground. You are shaking. “Please...take me, Loki. Fuck me, oh God...please.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Who am I to refuse?”

He pulls his fingers away, then undoes his belt again. You wait, arms trembling as he prepares himself; it seems like an eternity before he finally slides into you.

He begins roughly thrusting into you. You bite your knuckles to stifle a scream; you can hear his quiet grunts. His armor clinks; you can see the light glinting off his helmet and dancing on the carpet in front of you.

“Loki, Loki, Loki...”

His thrusts get faster, less synchronized. “Yes,” he hisses. His nails are digging into your hips. “Louder.”

“Loki, please, c-come on.” Your arch your back and bite your lip.

“You’re mine,” he says, then moans. “Pathetic. You’re so pathetic.”

You let out a high whine. He slows to a stop and comes inside you with a soft moan. You follow soon after, closing your eyes as he continues to thrust through your aftershocks.

This time, he takes longer to pull out. When he finally does, you slowly rise to an upright kneeling position on the floor.

Something hits your back, and you realize he’s thrown your clothes at you. You turn and see him re-adjusting his clothing and helmet. He’s smiling, but won't look at you.

“I will return again, if you are good,” he murmurs softly to the floor. “I don’t doubt you will be.”


End file.
